


Behind Library Doors

by DracoMaleficium



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 22:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoMaleficium/pseuds/DracoMaleficium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Lumiere is happy, Cogsworth is NOT eavesdropping and paper is falling instead of snow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind Library Doors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [errantknightess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/errantknightess/gifts).



> Written for the drabble meme on my lj for [errantknightess](http://errantknightess.livejournal.com), who requested "Beauty and the Beast", something revolving around books. And then Cogsworth and Lumiere happened.

Cogsworth cringed as the unmistakable, rhythmical clink-clonk echoing closer from the left side of the corridor assaulted the dusty silence by the library’s door – the racket of the approaching Lumiere, already mildly offending at the best of times, now sounded positively insulting. 

“Shush!” hissed the butler furiously, putting one of his metallic arms to what he still, out of habit, referred to as his lips. “Keep that noise down!” Lumiere, a chaotically jumping blaze of light in the all-pervading darkness, leapt closer and closer, though he did make an attempt to soften his, for lack of a better word, footsteps. 

“They still in there?” he asked in a quiet whisper, glancing pointedly at the closed door. “How long’s it been now?”

“Two hours and seventeen minutes,” replied Cogsworth in a tone of one knowing beyond any shadow of doubt that this was in fact the case. “Mrs Potts went in with tea not an hour ago, but apart from that, no one has gone in or out during all that time.”

Lumiere’s astonished and incredulous expression mirrored exactly what Cogsworth was feeling at the very moment, but since it was a matter of pride to the dutiful butler not to own up to sharing any kinds of sentiment with the insolent Candlestick whatsoever, he was careful not to let it show.

“And, you know, there haven’t been any sounds of…” Lumiere’s whisper faltered as the Candlestick sought for the appropriate word, “… fighting?”

Cogsworth shook his round head, careful not to disturb the pointers. “No,” he mouthed. “They’ve been uncharacteristically quiet. In fact, it is my belief that she is... _teaching him to read_.”

“Wha -?!” Lumiere was on the verge of exclaiming out loud, but yelped something muffled and incomprehensible instead as Cogsworth hurriedly covered his wax-leaking mouth with his – well, hand. 

“ _Hush!_ ” he screamed in a whisper, which was quite an extraordinary accomplishment. “You mustn’t disturb them! You know how crucial it is that they –“

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” muttered Lumiere resentfully, but he still stole several increasingly hopeful and jubilant glances at the door. “I’ll just go and tell everyone to stay clear, shall I?”

“Yes, you do that,” admitted Cogsworth, releasing him and once again gluing a side of his face to the door to catch as much as he could of the quiet conversation still floating in the air beyond.

He continued his silent vigil long after Lumiere had left, a small smile blooming on his face.

 

***

 

She was gone. 

The Beast slumped numbly ahead, corridor after dark corridor, the phantom of a figure in a yellow dress rushing down the stairs, a mirror clutched to her chest, away, away, away. To be swallowed by the snow and the wind and the dark of the forest, never to light those silent passages again with her radiance. 

Gone.

Later, he could not remember how exactly did he happen to stop at the doors to the library; he could barely remember anything at all from the walk upstairs to the west wing. But here he was, looming on the threshold, his monstrous shadow cast ahead of him by the faint moonlight pouring into the vast, dark expanse from behind his back. The vague, silvery beam cut the gloom in half. 

The library. Her library. Where she – where they – 

The Prince had not registered how the book they had been trying to read together fell into his paws, but he did register the pain searing through him like a bolt of lightning as a howl tore out of his throat and he threw it against the opposite wall.

He didn’t need those books now, anyway. Even if she had taught him to read fluently, there was no use. Not with _her_ gone.

The moon cast a faint, phantom glow on the small, torn, white leafs swirling and dancing sadly as they fell in shreds to the floor, much like the snow falling down outside.


End file.
